


X-Ray Vision and the Strength of Five Gorillas

by lynne_monstr



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Sibling Bonding, selfcest, sex robot, what's in a name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynne_monstr/pseuds/lynne_monstr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sex robot Prussia commissioned looked and acted exactly like him, and was obviously his best idea ever. What he didn’t count on was that a robot with a lifetime’s worth of his memories wouldn’t want to be treated like an object.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is lovingly ripped off from the "I Robot" episode of Sealab 2021.
> 
> Written for hc_bingo for the square: loss of identity

The doorbell rang.  
  
At the loud chime, Prussia bolted upright. The sudden movement nearly threw him off the couch, but he managed to cling to the armrest at the last moment. He’d been waiting all week for this and even West, whose tolerance for Prussia’s antics had become legendary among the other nations, had fled to Italy’s house, unable to cope with his restless excitement.  
  
Sprinting for the door, Prussia threw it wide open and didn’t give a damn about the resulting crash as it slammed against the adjacent wall. He stopped and stared.  
  
Gorgeous.  
  
That was the first thing that came to mind and a second glance only confirmed it. Prussia was rarely struck speechless (silence sucked and was boring) but the sheer amount of perfection staring him in the face was overwhelming.  
  
"Hey, sexy." With a wink, the figure brushed past him and entered the house.  
  
Shit, even the voice was amazing, smooth tones sliding over him and promising more. He stayed unmoving, staring hard at the now empty doorframe before scrambling to catch up to his visitor in the living room.  
  
Out of nowhere, a hand cupped his ass and pinched. Prussia nearly yelped (except he didn’t because he didn’t do things like that), whirling in an instant to knock the hand away with his forearm and shoving back roughly with the other arm. Gorgeous or not, nobody touched him without permission. Not even when they were the hottest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.  
  
Just as fast, his extended hand was captured in a punishing grip and yanked, pulling him forward. Prussia dug in his back foot and jerked their connected arms back while at the same time kicking out with the other leg. But the low kick was easily blocked and this time when his wrist was pulled, he had no defense against it. It was too late to save his footing, so he let himself stumble forward. Right as he was about to fall Prussia reached out with his free hand, wrapping it around his attacker’s chest and pinning the man’s remaining arm.  
  
They both hit the floor together. Rolling quickly, Prussia straddled the body below him, eyes shining and teeth bared in victory.  
  
The eyes staring back at him were as red as his own. Exactly like his own. So was his hair, his too-wide grin, his shifting muscles under Prussia’s thighs, and his hands that came up to rest lightly on Prussia’s waist under his shirt.  
  
God, why hadn’t he thought of this years ago. Who needed porn when he had his very own identical self, courtesy of a brilliant (and pervy) robotics professor in Munich with way too much free time and an unhealthy obsession with spandex. A Prussia-bot, he’d named it. Lifelike in every way, complete with a full set of Prussia’s own memories.  
  
The unit had come with an option, the professor had explained, to modify its personality in order to ensure the Prussia-bot was malleable to any demands given to it. Prussia remembered feeling physically sick at the suggestion. He was awesome and perfect just the way he was and told the old man exactly what he’d do to him if he was disobeyed in this. Surprisingly, the aged scientist took the threats in stride. When you were in the sex-robot business, violent clients were to expected, he guessed.  
  
Eyeing the perfect replica of himself, Prussia knew he’d made the right choice.  
  
He reached out and cupped his double’s jaw in his left hand, other hand secured around his neck in case he started another fight. "So fucking perfect." The words were low, pushed out through the tightness already forming deep in his stomach.  
  
He never realized how hot he looked pinned to the floor.  
  
Laughter rang out below him and Prussia could feel the vibration under both hands and between his legs. "I let you win." The arrogant, condescending smirk was so familiar and it was strange to be on the receiving end of it.  
  
"Yeah right, whatever." He brushed the claim aside. "If I let you go," he gave a light squeeze with his right hand for emphasis, "are you going to fight me again or will you be good?"  
  
The other Prussia said nothing, just tilted his head back, offering up his throat to Prussia’s hand. The gesture sent a bolt of heat racing downwards and through the haze he wondered about the best way to torment a scientist because he said no fucking with his personality.  
  
Everything about the action screamed of intimacy and trust and Prussia wasn’t big on either. All his life he’d been surrounded by enemies probing for weakness and even now, when the world was so very different, the protective instincts that kept him alive were automatic. The only person he could trust—  
  
—was himself.  
  
The pieces came crashing together and a massive grin split across his face. No messing with the pervy scientist, then.  
  
He leaned down to brush a kiss against that exposed throat before grabbing his double’s hands, still settled around his waist, and moving them to rest on the floor, but not letting go. The wrists in his grasp were the perfect size, wiry but not delicate, and he felt the bones shift as they gauged the strength of Prussia’s grip. With a look that clearly indicated his double was to stay put, he released his hold and started to work on the buttons of the dark blue shirt the other was wearing.  
  
An arched eyebrow was all he received in return, but the hands stayed on the floor.  
  
Each button came undone, slowly revealing more and more pale skin and Prussia was lost in the novelty of seeing his body undressed from this new angle. When the last button was opened, he reverently spread the edges of the shirt aside, as if unwrapping an extra special gift. He set a hand over the taut skin of his double’s stomach and felt the muscles tense and quiver under his palm at the touch.  
  
His own features looked up at him, eyes hooded in arousal, cheeks flushed and white hair a complete mess, and Prussia wanted to freeze the moment to keep forever.  
  
He gave into temptation and threaded fingers through that mused hair. It was, unsurprisingly, as soft as his own. His thumb stroked along the hairline at his temple and the body under him yielded further, head twisting to give better access and neck stretching until the long muscle running the length of one side was straining.  
  
Prussia lifted his other hand to lightly trace the prominent muscle with a fingertip, from the thin edge right above the collarbone all the way up to the hinge of his jaw and behind an ear. At the light touch, his double’s entire body shivered and Prussia watched, entranced. He always knew he was hot, but he never realized he was beautiful.  
  
Something about the thought made him uncomfortable and he floundered for anything to do or to say. "You’re pretty lucky you know," he threw out, breaking the spell, "To have your first time be with me."  
  
At that, the other Prussia snapped his head around front and center to meet his gaze. Or, he tried to. Prussia’s grip on his hair pulled him up short, and so it was only his eyes that moved to meet Prussia’s own. "The fuck? Don’t be an idiot. This isn’t close to our first time and you damn well know it."  
  
Back on familiar footing, Prussia’s grin only got wider. He released his grip on the soft hair and smoothed it down where his fingers had ruffled it.  
  
His double took advantage of the freedom to turn his head back towards Prussia and level the full extent of his glare.  
  
Prussia ignored it "I know it’s not my first time. But your body," he ground his hips down to illustrate and bit back a groan as the sensation nearly derailed his train of thought, "is brand new and in mint condition." He winked. "Not for long, luckily."  
  
"Am I really that stupid?" was the irritated response, though it seemed he was more talking to himself than Prussia. "That makes no sense at all." Hands that had until then stayed obediently on the floor shot up to grab Prussia’s hips, squeezing and pulling down to grind them both together again. "I know what I’m doing just as much as you do."  
  
Arousal flared up once again at the renewed contact, but Prussia didn’t let it stop him from throwing down the challenge, "Fine," he said, and was met with a hungry grin. "Prove it."  
  
Before the words were fully out of his mouth Prussia found himself flipped onto his back, looking up into the wide, lust-filled eyes of his own face, familiar red diminished by the large pools of black his pupils had become.  
  
He watched as the already open shirt was impatiently tugged from slim, well-defined shoulders and flung across the room. "Take your shirt off," the other Prussia ordered, the same barking tone Prussia himself used to use to train his soldiers.  
  
There was something about hearing his own voice giving orders that drove him wild. Normally, Prussia didn’t follow commands from anyone but his leaders, but now his hands raced to the front of his shirt. Buttons undone, he shrugged out of the stupid thing and threw it aside.  
  
They stared, mirror images frozen in place save for their breathing, before they both flew into action at the same instant, lips crashing together in a frenzied open-mouthed kiss and hands pawing at each other’s remaining clothes until they were gone. Prussia found himself on his back again, an eager and excited copy of himself looming above.  
  
Hands reached down and spread his legs wide, knees up and feet on the floor, and Prussia watched as his double settled in the space between them. Both his hands, a match to Prussia’s own down to the short, trim nails, traced a path from the inside of each knee all the way to the crease at the very top of his thighs. That part of his body was unused to outside touch, as his other self was well aware, and his muscles jerked and shivered in the wake of sensation it brought to his skin.  
  
The hands went lower, then there was a pause and a strange, yet familiar noise. He was still working at deciphering the sound (lube, his mind supplied and good, his double was earning his keep already) when a slim, slick finger probed at his entrance, teasing lightly at the edges before thrusting deep inside.  
  
The initial burn was intense and he savored it. Before his body had time to adjust, another finger was added, and before he could fully stretch around the enlarged presence, it happened again. Prussia arched his back and hissed, head thrown back and eyes shut tight, both hands clenched into fists at his sides. The waves of pain blurred together and went straight to his cock.  
  
It normally took several encounters to convince his partners that this was what he liked, and even then they started out hesitant, not wanting to hurt him. It was incredible to be with someone who knew him so intimately as to need no prompting.  
  
He pressed himself down harder onto the intrusion, silently demanding more, and the fingers inside him started to move, making small circles in the tight space.  
  
"Looks like I’m doing pretty good so far." An amused, arrogant voice broke into his thoughts.  
  
Prussia cracked open his eyes and craned his head to look forward. Through the V of his spread legs, he could see the duplicate version of himself kneeling between his feet, one hand inside him, the other steadied against his outer thigh, and the sight sent a shudder of anticipation through him. "You’ll do," he agreed breathily, and let his head hit the carpet so he was staring at the ceiling. "Now come on, impress me."  
  
Without warning the fingers were removed and replaced with a warm, wet tongue and fuck, okay, he was impressed. Prussia didn’t even try to hold back the moan that slipped past his lips. A performance like that deserved some positive feedback. He grabbed for his own cock, stroking in time with that perfect, ravenous tongue. A beat later, he gave voice to his thoughts because certain things just needed to be said aloud. "Fuck, I’m amazing."  
  
After one last onslaught, the tongue retreated and a slippery hand clamped around his wrist, pulling it away from where he was still stroking himself. The dual loss of sensation was almost painful and his hips jerked up instinctually. There was only empty air and a keen of frustration tore itself from his throat.  
  
"No touching yourself until I’m inside you," the voice, indistinguishable from his own, commanded as a pale, smirking face came into view above him. The smirk widened as his tongue, the same tongue that had just been doing such unspeakable things, darted out to run across his lips.  
  
Prussia forced his voice to stay steady. "Then you better hurry it up." But he kept both hands at his sides, digging fingernails into his palms and concentrating on the tiny pricks of pain in order to comply.  
  
The eyes above him were shining and for the first time ever, Prussia actually had an idea of what any of his partners saw as they gazed down at him. From the look on his double’s face, he was having similar thoughts to what Prussia himself had experienced not too long ago when their positions were reversed.  
  
A fingernail skimmed along his jawline. "You’re so fucking demanding," he whispered.  
  
Prussia had a sharp retort ready on his lips, but it was swept away as an intimately familiar hardness pressed into him, followed shortly after by a hand encircling his cock. He wrapped his legs around his other self, drawing him further in and adding a hand to the one already working up and down his length.  
  
He couldn’t help but think that sex with his friends was great, but sex with himself was even better.  
  
Then a hand that wasn’t his brushed over the head of his cock and the length inside him hit that perfect spot and all thought fled from his mind.  


 

  
  
Afterwards they collapsed atop each other, pressed skin to skin. They stayed there, breathing heavily, neither willing to move.  
  
With a slight grunt, his double rolled off him and onto the floor to rest on his back before propping himself up on both elbows. He was disheveled and grinning and looked like the most magnificent thing Prussia had ever seen.  
  
A shirt sleeve hung haphazardly off the couch near their heads and Prussia grabbed it, wiping himself off and tossing it to his other self to do the same. Then he shifted onto his side so they were face to face.  
  
"Come on, Prussia-bot," he teased, tracing a finger down the sweat-sheened chest next to him. His own body still hummed with the pleasure of release and he felt fucking fantastic. "I’ll be up for round two soon, and this shit’s way better in a bed."  
  
He almost didn’t catch it, wouldn’t have noticed it at all except he’d spent a lot of time studying his own face in the mirror. But the flash of surprise and intense hurt was clearly there before being swiftly replaced by the more familiar, confident mask. His double tensed. "Don’t call me that."  
  
Prussia’s wandering fingers went lower, until they were playing along the fine white hair low on the stomach that was an exact match to his own. "It’s what you are," said Prussia, casually. "Why shouldn’t I call you that?"  
  
The reaction was as if he’d hit him. His double reeled back, scooting away from Prussia until he was out of arm’s reach, sitting up from the lazy sprawl. He glared, eyes narrowed and jaw tightly clenched. "I’m not a thing. I’m the same as you."  
  
Fuck, every science fiction nightmare was about to come true right here on the floor of his living room, wasn’t it? If the Prussia-bot tried to kill him and take over his life, he was marching straight to Munich to demand a refund. This was unanticipated. Sure, it looked like him and acted like him, and fucked like him, but it wasn’t. It was a robot. Built for sex.  
  
Looking back though, he’d never once thought of his other self in those terms, not since the moment he’d kissed his throat. Prussia pushed the thought away, not quite knowing what to make of it. "Don’t give me this bullshit. You’re a sex robot. Get over it."  
  
With stiff, jerky movements, his double stood and gathered his clothes. "Fuck you!" He bit his lip and glanced at the floor where they’d just been. "Is that what this was all about? Just a sex robot." He looked back at Prussia. "Go fuck yourself."  
  
"Thought I just did."  
  
A spasm of laughter broke through the tension as the other Prussia made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a choke, but it was almost immediately overwhelmed and swept aside by the tide of growing anger. Anger and something else.  
  
"Come on, get back here. Don’t be like that," Prussia coaxed, sitting up and leaning his back against the edge of the couch. He recognized the expression on that identical face and knew what it meant. And was starting to feel guilty, the thought creeping up on him that if their roles were reversed he’d be feeling the same sense of betrayal.  
  
"Be like what?" The response was bitter, the words clipped. His double stepped into faded jeans, underwear forgotten, and pulled them up roughly. "Have thoughts and memories? I wish I didn’t. Why did you give them to me, if all you wanted was a toy to play with." The sound of the zipper punctuated the statement.  
  
The thought of not imbuing the Prussia-bot with his personality had never even crossed Prussia’s mind. He wanted a sex toy—and what was hotter than himself. He realized with a start that he’d severely miscalculated, fallen into the same trap he so often set for those around him; he’d underestimated himself, his determination, his will to exist, his pride. All of which had been passed on, along with his memories.  
  
His double continued, reversing the sleeves of a black button-down turned inside out from its removal. "One day I’m drinking beer with friends, giving Austria shit, and doing whatever. The next day I wake up like _this_." He gestured down at himself, his bare chest and low hanging jeans, and Prussia knew he wasn’t talking about his outward appearance. "That’s what having those memories means. Do you have any fucking idea what that’s like? I thought this century couldn’t get any worse. Wrong again." With a violent jerk he yanked his arms through the sleeves and started on the buttons.  
  
Prussia noticed the shirt was actually his, but didn’t comment.  
  
"Being kids with Hungary, settling my land, fighting with France, fighting against France, and god, kicking Austria’s ass never gets old. Those two disasters of a war that ruined everything and living in that freezing cold hellhole." He finished buttoning the shirt and scowled. "I remember it all! I was there. How can you say I’m not me?"  
  
Because you’re a piece of technology and those memories don’t belong to you, Prussia thought, but couldn’t bring himself to say it. There was truth in the words and Prussia hated the idea that, after all the crap he’d been through, he was the one fucking it up for himself this time. Even if this particular version of himself was mechanical.  
  
He remembered how he’d raged long ago, first at the loss of his Kingdom and then later when he ceased to be a political entity entirely, how much it had hurt each time a part of himself was torn away. To then be denied his recognition as a person—he tried to imagine what it would be like if someone told him his memories were worthless and he was nothing but a fake version of some other real self. It wasn’t a pleasant thought and he mentally recoiled from it.  
  
Shit, the other him had a point. He shrugged and nodded before looking back into angry red eyes. "Fine, you’re right. You’re more than a sex robot and you need a better name. Come on, sit."  
  
"I already have a name." But after a moment’s hesitation, he came over and sat next to Prussia.  
  
"If you want," Prussia started out, for the first time unsure of his words, "we can go back to Munich. If you really don’t want the memories, we can take them away."  
  
The expression next to him darkened and before Prussia realized it, there was a hand curled hard against his throat, forcing him back against the couch. "If you do that to me, I will fucking kill you." Familiar lips were twisted in an ugly snarl and his double was panting heavily. There was a pause. "If you shut me down," he added in a lower voice, and Prussia could detect the slightest hint of fear under the bluster, "I’ll fucking kill you."  
  
Prussia didn’t struggle against the hold. It was mostly the answer he expected, but felt the question had needed to be asked. He hadn’t realized the Prussia-bot was concerned about being powered off. But, thinking about it, it made sense. For all Prussia grumbled about the state of the modern world, he still had a furious will to live; it shouldn’t have been a surprise that something with his memories and life experiences would feel the same.  
  
He nodded once, brusquely.  
  
The hand loosened so he could speak.  
  
"You’re really hot when you’re angry."  
  
The words were accepted as the peace offering they were and earned him a small smile followed by a leer, eyes raking down his exposed body in obvious appreciation. "I’m always hot. And you’re really hot when you’re naked. You should stay that way." The hand released him and pulled away.  
  
"I was planning to. You’re the one that got dressed." Prussia yawned, suddenly realizing just how tired he was. He climbed up onto the couch behind him and spread out, giving a playful look towards his still-dressed counterpart sitting on the floor. "It’s cold without clothes, come warm me up."  
  
He looked about to protest but Prussia cut him off. "I’m tired. You shouldn’t talk about important shit when you’re tired. Come on." He patted the couch.  
  
Sighing, his double peeled off his shirt and pants again. He left the room and returned with a throw blanket and a sheet, tossing both to Prussia. "Put the sheet down. West will be super pissed if we ruin this couch and I’m not in the mood to be nagged."  
  
There wasn’t really room for two on the couch, but they made it work. Prussia wedged himself against the back pillows to make space. The Prussia-bot spooned against him and he threw an arm over the familiar chest, falling deep into sleep. His last thought before letting go of consciousness completely was that he almost wished there was a third one of him so he could see the picture they made, mirror images lying entwined on the couch.  
  


  
  
It wasn’t yet time for his recharge cycle, and so Prussia didn’t sleep.  
  
The feel of the steady heartbeat against his back was soothing, and he shifted an arm so he could grab hold of the wrist slung around his chest and feel it there, too, pulsing under his fingers. It was warm and comfortable next to his flesh-and-blood self and he was mostly content to stay put for now.  
  
His mind, on the other hand, was a whir of confusing and contradictory thoughts. The loudest being that he absolutely refused to think of his other self as the original. That would make him nothing more than a cheap copy and if there was one thing Prussia knew, it was that he wasn’t second to anyone.  
  
Still, he hadn’t felt this lost in over half a century.  
  
There was also the annoying little voice in the back of his head that kept insisting he should get off the damn couch and storm off. He was still pissed at his other self for earlier. Talking like he was no better than a toy. And sure, he took it back eventually, but that didn’t change the fact that it happened. It had been such a shock to hear those words aimed at him, the realization that the other Prussia didn’t consider him an equal. He tensed in remembrance.  
  
Keeping emotions bottled up was fine for prisses like the priss, but Prussia had always been a man of action. And he probably would have gotten up off his lazy and sex-sated ass, except the sleeping idiot behind him, who was his intended audience for such a gesture, was both really cozy and fast asleep. So he not-so-reluctantly stayed put.  
  
The thoughts kept spinning through his head and he wished they would stop. Thinking was all well and good when there was an enemy to pit his mind and his skills against; now there was only himself and he was getting frustrated. Laying on the couch for who the hell knew how long, turning the same thoughts over and over in his head was getting him nowhere, but he couldn’t rest.  
  
He kept coming back to the same place.  
  
The most important place. The place all the other thoughts could be traced back to. If his memories weren’t really his, then who was he?  
  
No answer miraculously popped up, which sucked balls..  
  
The sound of the front door opening drew his attention outward. A faint scent drifted in from the outside and he analyzed it. There was a match in his databank. West was home.  
  
Morbid curiosity seized him and he wondered if his brother would be able to tell who he was. Or rather who he wasn’t.  
  
Prussia gently removed the arm from over his chest and rolled off the couch, making sure to tuck the blanket back around the sleeping Prussia before finding and pulling on his jeans, not bothering with a shirt. The location of his underwear was still a mystery and, had he been a lesser man, perhaps he might have cared.  
  
He glanced back over at the couch. He’d never seen himself asleep before and thought he looked really cute that like that. An overwhelming surge of protectiveness towards his sleeping self swept through him, and he was self-aware enough to wonder if it was real, or some kind of safeguard coded into his personality. He made a note to ask about it later, but wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.  
  
"Prussia?" West’s voice carried in from the kitchen, confirming the earlier scent analysis.  
  
"Hey West," he called back, making his way out of the living room to see his brother.  
  
West was by the fridge, bent over next to the open door, head hidden from view as he rummaged around.  
  
"Grab me a beer." He didn’t need food or drink (just electricity) but it tasted good and beer was delicious.  
  
Closing the fridge with a nudge of his foot, bottle in each hand, West walked over towards where Prussia leaned against the doorway to the kitchen and handed him one.  
  
"No glass?"  
  
West gave him that exasperated look he reserved just for Prussia. Then he reached into a nearby drawer for a bottle opener, popping the top of his beer before reaching over to do the same for Prussia’s. "You can get it yourself if you want it."  
  
He brought the bottle to his lips instead. God, he loved beer. "Where were you?" he asked.  
  
Beer halfway to his own mouth, West paused and gave him a questioning look. "Don’t you ever listen at all? I told you earlier I was going to visit Italy’s house."  
  
"Yeah, whatever." Prussia’s last memory before today was drinking with France and England. What a shitshow that was, he remembered with a mental laugh. Then he woke up this morning in Munich, bid farewell to his creator, and came straight home to here. But it made sense that anything the other Prussia did after his memories were copied over wouldn’t be in his databank now.  
  
Another reminder of what he was. He shrugged, trying to shake off the feeling.  
  
Absently, he swirled the bottle in one hand, liquid racing round and round the sides, rising higher as the spinning continued. He looked up. "West?"  
  
At his name, West swallowed and lowered the bottle, leaning against the countertop running along the wall next to them. "Yes?"  
  
"You remember that time when you were a kid and you got lost the whole night in the forest on that hunting trip?"  
  
His brother tilted his head to the side and stared off at the opposite wall. Soon the blank look cleared into remembrance. His eyes crinkled as he smiled. "It was very cold. You found me in the morning and let me ride with you because I didn’t want to ride alone on my pony afterwards." He took another sip, then turned to fully face Prussia again. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"You were scared but wouldn’t show it. I was so damn proud of you." He’d been scared too, he remembered, had spent the entire night frantically searching, screaming at his men to look faster and farther. "Did I ever tell you that?"  
  
"No," West responded with a wry grin. "You just yelled."  
  
"For damn good reason!"  
  
"You never talk about those times anymore. What brought this on?" he asked again.  
  
"It’s nothing." Prussia toyed with the label on his bottle. The condensation had turned it wet and it was easy to peel the corners. "Just…thinking about old times, about, you know. Memories and shit." The memories weren’t really his, he knew, but did that mean the feelings he got from them were fake as well? Did anything he said or thought matter, he wondered. Did he matter? He looked up abruptly. "We’ve had a lot of good times, haven’t we?"  
  
Both corners of West’s mouth turned up in a soft smile, concern practically blazing behind the expression. "Yes."  
  
The answer was for the spoken question, but Prussia preferred to think that his brother was validating his unspoken thoughts as well. Confirming that he was real, that he mattered.  
  
West walked over to him, setting his free hand on one shoulder and giving it a brief squeeze. Those bright blue eyes bored into him, the same eyes that used to gaze up at him in wonder and admiration, now gazing down at him in worry. "Is everything alright? You seem," he visibly hesitated, "sad today."  
  
He should say something, Prussia knew. About how he wasn’t the Prussia his brother thought he was, about how he was different but still the same really. But he wasn’t sure what the reaction would be and his stomach clenched at the thought that it might be disgust. Or worse. Rejection.  
  
Before he realized what he was doing, Prussia put the bottle down on the countertop near his elbow and clasped West on both stupidly broad shoulders, the way he used to do long ago when he was the only adult in the household. The effect was ruined by the height difference, but Prussia had been ignoring that for years and wasn’t about to stop now.  
  
He pursed his lips. "West, I—"  
  
The shrill ring of a telephone caused them both to jolt and West pulled away with a sheepish, "My office phone." Placing his beer on the counter, he gave Prussia a small smile and a gentle clasp on the arm, and went to take the call, looking back one last time before disappearing from view.  
  
Prussia was left alone, a strange mixture of relief and disappointment churning through him.  
  
The telephone ring stopped and then started up again, which was weird. Prussia didn’t need to pull up the schematics of the house to know that it didn’t take that long to get to the room where their home office was. He stepped out of the kitchen into the front hallway to investigate and almost crashed into West as his brother turned the corner on his way back, thunderous rage on his face and brandishing a handgun directly at Prussia.  
  
Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

Staring down the barrel of the gun, the part of Prussia’s mind not engaged in frantic cursing recognized the weapon as his brother’s old service revolver. He took a step back.  
  
West took a step forward, eyes never leaving Prussia, his entire body on full alert. “I should have caught it when you didn’t know where I’d been. The real Prussia was pushing at me to go to Italy’s house all week. Who are you? What game is this?”  
  
Prussia’s eyes went wide. West must have seen the other one of him asleep on the couch. In the back of his mind, he wondered at his system’s healing capabilities. It had never been an issue for the Prussia in his memories, but it was suddenly a huge fucking concern. He put his hands out, as if that alone would stop West from attacking him.  
  
“West, I can—”  
  
“Don’t call me that.” The words came out guttural and harsh and Prussia had heard that same bark directed at enemy soldiers, but never to him. “Only my brother calls me that.”  
  
Prussia had been wounded in almost every conceivable way over the course of his life. As a militaristic nation who reveled in warfare and combat, that was to be expected. West’s words tore through him with a sting beyond physical pain and Prussia almost wished he would go ahead and pull the trigger. It couldn’t hurt more than that one sentence did.  
  
The front door of the house was behind him and he continued slowly backing up. Vast experience had taught him when to make a stand and when to retreat, and though retreating in nothing but a pair of worn jeans wasn’t any tactician’s ideal maneuver, it was the best one he had right now.  
  
West matched him step for step.  
  
Just as he was preparing to bolt for the door, West lunged forward and slammed him up against the side wall, shoving the barrel of the gun hard under his chin. The back of his head hit the wall with a crack and forced his teeth to click together and, fuck, that hurt!  
  
A random thought sprung out of nowhere, wondering if it was possible to turn off his pain sensors. It could be useful in the future, he considered, before shoving the idea aside.  
  
Taking stock of his situation, he considered his options. Even in this position he was far from helpless. A heap of tactics for neutralizing an assailant while unarmed sprang immediately to mind, and he could exploit the fact that West would likely hesitate before shooting him. Normally he would have already fought back, but this was his little brother and though they’d fought physically before, they’d never seriously tried to hurt each other one-on-one. Prussia didn’t want to start now.  
  
Forcing himself to keep still was an excruciating exercise in self-control. The gun was cold against the underside of his jaw and when the pressure increased, he had to fight against himself to let the weapon tilt his head up, until he was looking straight into cold, icy blue eyes.  
  
“I don’t know who you are, but if you lie to me again I will shoot you.” West took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Now tell me, what did you do to him?”  
  
What? Prussia was confused. Do to whom? “Huh?” he asked. Where were the questions asking how the fuck there were two Prussias?  
  
West leaned in closer. “What did you do to Prussia?” His voice was low and dangerous.  
  
“What? I didn’t do—”  
  
The gun bit deeper into his skin, choking off his voice, as West cocked the hammer. The sound echoed in Prussia’s ears and caused his right hand to twitch violently. He pressed the entire arm back against the wall.  
  
“He was naked,” West bellowed, right in his face. “Naked and a mess and unconscious and you’re…” he trailed off to visibly assess Prussia’s state of half-dress. “My brother isn’t easy to take down. Did you drug him?”  
  
Where was his other self, Prussia thought, with a mixture of urgency and annoyance. Now was the perfect time for his lazy ass to make an appearance and help sort this shit out. “Where is he?”  
  
West was enraged by the question, leaning closer into his face and digging the gun dug sharper into his jaw. “He’s safe.” The assertion was practically hissed.  
  
Fuck, he knew West and that meant he was either sleeping it off in the master bedroom or his own room, both of which were on the opposite side of the house where sound didn’t reach very well. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Listen,” he started, trying to stay calm and salvage this whole thing. “He’s fine. I didn’t do anything to him.”  
  
Well, not anything bad. Not anything he didn’t want. Or ask for. Or demand. He decided not to add those parts. No matter what people said, he wasn’t a complete idiot.  
  
West’s jaw clenched, vein throbbing at his temple that Prussia couldn’t help but stare at, and he thought his brother was going to shove the gun into his windpipe again. Still, it was nice to know he cared.  
  
“It’s true!” Prussia insisted. Before another screaming match could start, he was talking again. “Whatever you think happened, you’re wrong. It’s a long fucking story but, shit, I didn’t hurt him, okay. I _am_ him and I’m way too fucking awesome to do that to myself.”  
  
With how close they were, it was easy to see the hint of confusion come into West’s eyes even as the rest of him was snarling into Prussia’s face.  
  
“What in the fuck are you two doing!”  
  
Prussia’s own voice sounded from the end of the hallway, but it wasn’t Prussia who spoke. Both he and West froze and glanced over at the voice’s owner; Prussia in irritated relief, West in utter bewilderment still tinged with fury. Prussia would have laughed at the expression, but getting shot sucked and he was trying to avoid it.  
  
About time that sleeping bastard showed up.  
  


 

  
  
Prussia didn’t quite know what to make of the scene in front of him. His brother had his half-dressed sex robot trapped against the wall, old service revolver shoved in his face.  
  
Waking up earlier, fully clothed in his brother’s bed, was weird enough. It’s not like West had never stumbled upon him passed out naked before. Usually he just ignored Prussia, so the fact that he went out of his way to dress him was odd. He felt vaguely like he was doing the walk of shame in the sweatpants and tank top that were both too big on him (except for the part where he wasn’t ashamed). And now he was greeted with this.  
  
“What the fuck. Put that shit down.” He crossed the hallway to wedge himself between the two of them, standing protectively in front of his double and glaring up at his brother. Prussia knew from experience that he could survive a close range shot, even to the head, but had no idea what a bullet would do to intricate machinery. What he did know was that he desperately didn’t want to watch himself die.  
  
“How can you say that after what he did to you,” West demanded, every tensed muscle radiating fury, gun perfectly steady, though the arm that held it was now fully extended after Prussia shoved himself in front of him.  
  
“You mean, after he gave me the best sex of my whole life. Seems like a pretty dick move to shoot him for that, if you ask me.”  
  
“He what?” West looked floored, jaw hanging open slightly. He didn’t seem to realize it.  
  
“Jesus, West. Let him go already.”  
  
“Who is he?”  
  
“My sex robot!”  
  
Said sex robot strained forward and craned his head around, completely ignoring the gun still pressed into his skin, to send a death glare at Prussia. “I said stop calling me shit like that! And I’m not your fucking anything.”  
  
Prussia waved a hand at him. “I know, I know,” he reassured. “I’m trying to keep things simple for West.”  
  
“Well, keep it simple some other way.” His other self turned to West, whose eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they were almost joined together. “I’m not a sex robot,” he clarified, then frowned. “Well, okay, I’m kind of a robot, but—”  
  
“ _Kind of!?_ You’re fucking this up,” Prussia interrupted.  
  
“Excuse me,” West butted in, wild eyes darting madly between the two of them before settling on Prussia. “Are you saying that you went and built a robot of yourself? For sex?”  
  
Prussia shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t build it but yeah, pretty much.” Seeing as his double was about to protest again, he quickly added, “But he’s not a sex robot. I gave him all my memories, so really, he’s more like another me, just with wires.”  
  
“Damn fucking right,” his double chimed in.  
  
“He didn’t,” West swallowed, lips pressed together in a thin line. “He didn’t…attack you?”  
  
“What?” What the hell was West going on about. Why would he think th— Prussia cut himself off mid-thought as he flashed back to waking up fully dressed.  
  
Oh.  
  
The reason for the strange action suddenly seemed a lot clearer. And though West was completely off-base, the part of Prussia that wasn’t cringing at the misunderstanding was warmed at the proof that there was someone out there who still gave a damn about him. He stood up straighter and fixed his little brother with a serious look. “No, I wasn’t attacked. I’m fine.”  
  
West’s shoulders drooped in relief as most of the tension left them.  
  
“Now,” Prussia got back to business, “do you mind taking that gun out of my other self’s face. It’s making us both upset.” When that didn’t seem to get through he leaned forward until they were nose to nose. Or, they would’ve been, if his brother wasn’t so stupidly tall. “West, now!” he snapped. It was his command voice and it never failed to get results.  
  
Shaking his head, West put the gun away, tucking it into his pants, and took a large step backwards. Still looking shell-shocked, he studied the two of them intently, as if not quite believing what he was seeing. He looked at Prussia. Then at his double. And back to Prussia once again.  
  
“There’s two of you,” said West, in wonder. Then his expression turned to alarm and a hand reached up to cover his eyes. “Oh god. There’s two of you.”  
  
Prussia rolled his eyes. “Took you long enough.”  
  
West’s head shot up to stare at them in horror and Prussia realized it was because he and his double had responded in unison. Turning again to face the other Prussia, who was now rubbing absently at the front of his neck, West asked hesitantly, “You’re really Prussia?”  
  
The Prussia-bot’s features lit up at the question.  
  
“So that’s how you knew about the forest?”  
  
“Wait, what?” What the hell else had he missed while asleep.  
  
“No shit, W-Germany.” All traces of happiness were suddenly wiped from his other self’s face. “I remember it like I was there,” he said softly.  
  
Before Prussia could ask what was up with the name change, West strode forward and caught his double’s chin gently in one hand, tilting it up to meet his eyes. Prussia knew how much he hated when people tried to pull that kind of bullshit on him – he could look wherever he damn well pleased — so it was a testament to his other self’s state of mind that he didn’t shake the hand away.  
  
West’s mouth opened and closed a few times, not saying anything. With a deep breath, he pulled himself together. “I didn’t mean…I thought…” The words came out haltingly and he trailed off into silence.  
  
Neither spoke.  
  
“I didn’t realize you were you, too,” West said finally. He shifted his hand so it was curled around the back of the other Prussia’s neck, tangling in the white hair and pulling them together in a fierce embrace. “You can call me whatever name you wish.” The words had barely left his mouth before he stiffened. “Within reason,” he added.  
  
They both laughed at that, arms wrapped tight around each other.  
  
Something had obviously happened between his brother and the other him earlier, but they seemed to be working it out, so Prussia let it be.  
  
They pulled away and West turned to face him. “When you were sleeping, we were talking,” he said. “Prussia,” he gestured to his double, “told me that the time I got lost in the forest, you were proud of me.” Solid features, normally inscrutable, looked unsure. “Is that true?”  
  
It took Prussia a moment to remember the incident. But he did and he smiled. “Course it is.”  
  


 

  
  
After clearing up the rest of the confusion (and deciding that the Prussias would clean both the couch and the living room carpet), West cleared out and Prussia accompanied himself down to the basement to finish their previous conversation. His other self needed a name; they couldn’t both be Prussia.  
  
An airborne yellow blur shot towards them as Gilbird swooped across the room, coming to land on Prussia’s shoulder. His double didn’t react but the sudden tightness in his shoulders, plain to see without a shirt on, made it obvious what he was thinking.  
  
Prussia lifted a finger and Gilbird hopped on with a high chirp. Bringing the bird up to eye level, he ruffled the tiny feathers in greeting.  
  
Gilbird preened at the attention.  
  
“Hey buddy. I’m glad to see you too.” Lowering his voice to the barest of whispers, he continued. “I think the other me needs you a bit more, okay?”  
  
With another chirp, Gilbird pecked lightly at his nose and flew to the other Prussia, burying himself in the unruly white hair and starting to groom the individual strands. His double smiled at the antics, flashing him a grin that Prussia knew meant that while he hadn’t heard the words, he knew exactly what he said to Gilbird and appreciated it.  
  
They sat across from each other on the bed.  
  
“What was that with you and West?” The question had been bugging him and he saw no reason not to ask.  
  
His double flinched slightly and looked away. “Earlier. He said I wasn’t his brother.”  
  
The words were barely more than a murmur and Prussia had to strain to hear them. “Yeah well, he also thought you were some kind of imposter who’d kicked the shit out of me, among other things. You know he didn’t mean it.” Prussia chuckled softly. “I don’t know what West was thinking, really. I mean, we’ve already proved who’s the better fighter here.”  
  
“Hey!” The other Prussia jerked his head back up to face him. “I told you, I let you win.”  
  
Prussia poked at a jean-clad knee opposite his own. “Sure, if that’s what you need to tell yourself.”  
  
A hand swatted him aside.  
  
Prussia turned serious. “You need a name.”  
  
“I have a name.” It was the same thing he said earlier.  
  
“We can call you Gilbert. It would be the least confusing for everyone else.”  
  
Red eyes hardened and his double’s nose flared, flashing teeth as if Prussia had threatened him, as opposed to offering his human name for use. “I’m not some pet human of yours.”  
  
“Well you’re not a nation, either.”  
  
A sharp smile was leveled his way. “And maybe if you’d managed to hang on to world power status for more than a century or two before crumbling to dust, I might actually be insulted by that.”  
  
He may have deserved that, Prussia knew, but it didn’t stop the clench of pain squeezing like a band around his chest. The crap part about arguing with himself was that he knew exactly where to hit to make it hurt. His hands gripped his knees tightly where they rested atop them. “I’m still here,” he said, pushing the words out through gritted teeth. Raising his voice, he went on. “And I’m a fuck of a lot closer to a nation than you are.”  
  
The wolfish expression across from him faded into a grimace before settling into a look Prussia knew all too well, lips set in a stern line and chin raised. It was his _It was a dick thing to say but don’t expect me to apologize_ look. “My point is—” his other self started, before pausing in thought. Fingers came up to dance across his bare chest, feeling around as if searching for something.  
  
Prussia was part disgusted and part thought it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen when a hatch popped open in the chest identical to his, directly over the heart, exposing an ordered series of wires and computer chips. He reached out a hand to touch, but it was slapped away, the covering closed. Once sealed there was no indication it had ever existed.  
  
As if he hadn’t just opened a portal into the fucking Twilight Zone, the Prussia-bot continued. “I’m not human either and if you try to treat me like some lesser version of you, I’ll kick your ass. As long as there’s electricity, I’m going to live forever.” He gave a sly grin. “May even outlive you.”  
  
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Prussia drummed his fingertips against his knees. Just then, the best name idea in the world came to him and though he knew it was probably a huge mistake, he’d never been one for impulse control outside of a military setting, and gave voice to it anyway. “How about Gilbot, that’s an awesome name!”  
  
A lifetime of fighting was all that allowed him to block the fist that flew at his face, hand racing up to deflect the blow before his mind even processed the threat. But he wasn’t in time to catch the one right behind it, which connected solidly with his stomach. Prussia doubled over with a loud grunt, reaching out to shove his other self back to his side of the bed.  
  
He put a hand out, the other clutched protectively around his stomach. “Joking, it was a joke! Lighten up,” he managed to gasp out between gulps of air.  
  
Shit, he knew that had been a bad idea. Even Gilbird was giving him the evil eye as he fluttered his wings to resettle, having almost been launched from his resting place during the scuffle.  
  
“Not fucking funny.” His double seethed, shaking in repressed anger. “I’m not some stupid _thing_ for you to take out and play with.” Both fists were clenched balls of rage, and came up to wrap loosely around himself. “I’m not a thing,” he repeated, and Prussia realized he was trying to convince himself as much as he was Prussia.  
  
The insight was like a second blow to the stomach and Prussia swallowed, throat suddenly dry. Because, yeah, it might have started off that way, but watching this identical version of him talk and act and have emotions so exactly like his own, he suddenly felt like shit about the whole thing. He couldn’t deny that his double deserved something more than to be treated like some big joke. Prussia knew from experience how much that sucked.  
  
He had no idea how to convey any of that in words.  
  
Actions had always been his thing, and he wanted to act now, to reassure his other self with his hands and lips, with touch instead of words (he’d already screwed up enough with words). But he held back, knowing he’d most likely get pushed away at this point. Or hit. Violence was usually his first instinct when he was angry or hurt.  
  
He rubbed a hand across his eyes and down the side of his face. “So what should we call you? Because I’m all out of ideas. Just pick a name and you can be that.”  
  
“Prussia.”  
  
“What?”  
  
A huff of laughter escaped before his other self could stifle it. “Idiot.” Just as quickly, the small smile fled. “My name,” he said clearly, enunciating each word, “is Prussia.” He stared intently, as if daring him to protest. “You would never go by anything else and neither will I, and don’t try to bullshit me that names aren’t important.”  
  
Prussia let out a breath. Because he was right. Names were important. There were times he was convinced that his attachment to his name, his insistence on still identifying with his name, was the only thing keeping him alive after having lost everything. He came to a decision. “Fine, we can both be Prussia. Let the rest of those losers try to sort it out! This is going to be great!” The thought of the impending chaos made him grin.  
  
It wasn’t returned. “I wasn’t asking for your _permission_.” The word was spit out like something ugly and his twin’s entire face twisted as he said it.  
  
“I know,” he replied, suddenly just as serious. “But I’m on board with it anyway. So deal with it.”  
  
They remained like that, in a stalemate, until Prussia couldn’t take it any longer. He needed to make things right, couldn’t stand to see that defensive, wary look on his own face. His hands shot out to grab the other him by the waist and used the leverage to pull forward and straddle his other self’s lap, nudging his crossed legs apart to sit astride his thigh.  
  
Gilbird took the opportunity to clear out. Like his master, he was smarter than he looked.  
  
Slowly, Prussia reached out a hand and when it wasn’t shoved away, stroked the pad of this thumb lightly across a cheekbone. Licking his lips, he tried to say the words he so desperately wanted to voice, to let his other self know that Prussia didn’t think he was something to use and throw away, but he couldn’t think of a way to say it was wasn’t sappy or stupid or lame.  
  
He swallowed the assurances he didn’t know how to say and instead buried his hand in the soft hair, giving the slightest of twists, a move he’d always liked but so few people got right. Silent, he stared down into the face he knew so well and hoped his expression would convey everything his voice couldn’t.  
  
No emotion was reflected back at him and he knew right then that he’d fucked it up for good with his silence. There was no point in sticking around to get rejected so he jerked away to start disentangling himself, shoving the regret and disappointment somewhere deep inside, someplace he could forget about it.  
  
Before he could climb off his double’s lap, he was pulled forcibly forward and a pair of arms locked around his chest and waist, keeping him from leaving. When he made no attempt to break out of the hold, the hands slid down his sides to grab his hips, dipping under the elastic waistband of the sweatpants and pulling him even closer.  
  
Daring to look into his other self’s face, Prussia saw the stony expression melt away, harsh features softening in unspoken acceptance of his unsaid words. It made perfect sense, he thought in sudden understanding. He wasn’t the only one who sucked at words and he was an idiot for not catching on sooner.  
  
His double leaned forward until his mouth was almost pressed up to Prussia’s ear before finally speaking and breaking the heavy silence. “If you leave, I’ll fucking kill you.” The words were growled into Prussia’s ear, and he could practically feel them against his skin.  
  
Prussia smiled brilliantly and mirrored the action, so his lips were also brushing an ear. “The world won’t know what hit them.” It was an apology and a promise all at once.  
  
Taking advantage of his position, Prussia darted his tongue out to lick the earlobe so conveniently nearby, a part of himself he’d never seen up close before. He sucked on the lobe, bringing it into his mouth and biting down just the barest amount before tugging gently and letting go. They were close enough that he heard the faint hitch of breath it elicited.  
  
He straightened and watched as the Prussia-bo—no, his other self, _Prussia_ , he corrected—as his other self’s face split into a wide, happy grin before speaking. “I’ve always loved being alone,” he began, and Prussia nodded in agreement. “And now—”  
  
“We still are,” Prussia finished, expression matching identically. Then he kissed his other self deeply and pushed forward, sending them both tumbling down to the bed together.  
  
He couldn’t wait for the next world meeting.


End file.
